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The Metamorphosis and Other Stories
'When Gregor Samsa woke one morning from uneasy dreams, he found himself transformed into some kind of monstrous vermin.'
With a bewildering blend of the everyday and the fantastical, Kafka thus begins his most famous short story, The Metamorphosis. A commercial traveller is unexpectedly freed from his dreary job by his inexplicable transformation into an insect, which drastically alters his relationship with his family. Kafka considered publishing it with two of the stories included here in a volume to be called Punishments. The Judgement also concerns family tensions, when a power struggle between father and son ends with the father passing an enigmatic judgement on the helpless son. The third story, In the Penal Colony, explores questions of power, justice, punishment, and the meaning of pain in a colonial setting. These three stories are flanked by two very different works. Meditation, the first book Kafka published, consists of light, whimsical, often poignant mood-pictures, while in the autobiographical Letter to his Father, Kafka analyses his difficult relationship in forensic and devastating detail.
For the 125th anniversary of Kafka's birth comes an astonishing new translation of his best-known stories, in a spectacular graphic package.
Table of contents:
Meditation
The Judgement
The Metamorphosis
In the Penal Colony
(Autobiographical) Letter to his Father
With a bewildering blend of the everyday and the fantastical, Kafka thus begins his most famous short story, The Metamorphosis. A commercial traveller is unexpectedly freed from his dreary job by his inexplicable transformation into an insect, which drastically alters his relationship with his family. Kafka considered publishing it with two of the stories included here in a volume to be called Punishments. The Judgement also concerns family tensions, when a power struggle between father and son ends with the father passing an enigmatic judgement on the helpless son. The third story, In the Penal Colony, explores questions of power, justice, punishment, and the meaning of pain in a colonial setting. These three stories are flanked by two very different works. Meditation, the first book Kafka published, consists of light, whimsical, often poignant mood-pictures, while in the autobiographical Letter to his Father, Kafka analyses his difficult relationship in forensic and devastating detail.
For the 125th anniversary of Kafka's birth comes an astonishing new translation of his best-known stories, in a spectacular graphic package.
Table of contents:
Meditation
The Judgement
The Metamorphosis
In the Penal Colony
(Autobiographical) Letter to his Father
98 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 1, 2012
424 people are currently reading
2361 people want to read
About the author
Franz Kafka
3,231 books38.7k followersFranz Kafka was a German-speaking writer from Prague whose work became one of the foundations of modern literature, even though he published only a small part of his writing during his lifetime. Born into a middle-class Jewish family in Prague, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Kafka grew up amid German, Czech, and Jewish cultural influences that shaped his sense of displacement and linguistic precision. His difficult relationship with his authoritarian father left a lasting mark, fostering feelings of guilt, anxiety, and inadequacy that became central themes in his fiction and personal writings.
Kafka studied law at the German University in Prague, earning a doctorate in 1906. He chose law for practical reasons rather than personal inclination, a compromise that troubled him throughout his life. After university, he worked for several insurance institutions, most notably the Workers Accident Insurance Institute for the Kingdom of Bohemia. His duties included assessing industrial accidents and drafting legal reports, work he carried out competently and responsibly. Nevertheless, Kafka regarded his professional life as an obstacle to his true vocation, and most of his writing was done at night or during periods of illness and leave. Kafka began publishing short prose pieces in his early adulthood, later collected in volumes such as Contemplation and A Country Doctor. These works attracted little attention at the time but already displayed the hallmarks of his mature style, including precise language, emotional restraint, and the application of calm logic to deeply unsettling situations. His major novels The Trial, The Castle, and Amerika were left unfinished and unpublished during his lifetime. They depict protagonists trapped within opaque systems of authority, facing accusations, rules, or hierarchies that remain unexplained and unreachable. Themes of alienation, guilt, bureaucracy, law, and punishment run throughout Kafka’s work. His characters often respond to absurd or terrifying circumstances with obedience or resignation, reflecting his own conflicted relationship with authority and obligation. Kafka’s prose avoids overt symbolism, yet his narratives function as powerful metaphors through structure, repetition, and tone. Ordinary environments gradually become nightmarish without losing their internal coherence. Kafka’s personal life was marked by emotional conflict, chronic self-doubt, and recurring illness. He formed intense but troubled romantic relationships, including engagements that he repeatedly broke off, fearing that marriage would interfere with his writing. His extensive correspondence and diaries reveal a relentless self-critic, deeply concerned with morality, spirituality, and the demands of artistic integrity. In his later years, Kafka’s health deteriorated due to tuberculosis, forcing him to withdraw from work and spend long periods in sanatoriums. Despite his illness, he continued writing when possible. He died young, leaving behind a large body of unpublished manuscripts. Before his death, he instructed his close friend Max Brod to destroy all of his remaining work. Brod ignored this request and instead edited and published Kafka’s novels, stories, and diaries, ensuring his posthumous reputation.
The publication of Kafka’s work after his death established him as one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century. The term Kafkaesque entered common usage to describe situations marked by oppressive bureaucracy, absurd logic, and existential anxiety. His writing has been interpreted through existential, religious, psychological, and political perspectives, though Kafka himself resisted definitive meanings. His enduring power lies in his ability to articulate modern anxiety with clarity and restraint.
Kafka studied law at the German University in Prague, earning a doctorate in 1906. He chose law for practical reasons rather than personal inclination, a compromise that troubled him throughout his life. After university, he worked for several insurance institutions, most notably the Workers Accident Insurance Institute for the Kingdom of Bohemia. His duties included assessing industrial accidents and drafting legal reports, work he carried out competently and responsibly. Nevertheless, Kafka regarded his professional life as an obstacle to his true vocation, and most of his writing was done at night or during periods of illness and leave. Kafka began publishing short prose pieces in his early adulthood, later collected in volumes such as Contemplation and A Country Doctor. These works attracted little attention at the time but already displayed the hallmarks of his mature style, including precise language, emotional restraint, and the application of calm logic to deeply unsettling situations. His major novels The Trial, The Castle, and Amerika were left unfinished and unpublished during his lifetime. They depict protagonists trapped within opaque systems of authority, facing accusations, rules, or hierarchies that remain unexplained and unreachable. Themes of alienation, guilt, bureaucracy, law, and punishment run throughout Kafka’s work. His characters often respond to absurd or terrifying circumstances with obedience or resignation, reflecting his own conflicted relationship with authority and obligation. Kafka’s prose avoids overt symbolism, yet his narratives function as powerful metaphors through structure, repetition, and tone. Ordinary environments gradually become nightmarish without losing their internal coherence. Kafka’s personal life was marked by emotional conflict, chronic self-doubt, and recurring illness. He formed intense but troubled romantic relationships, including engagements that he repeatedly broke off, fearing that marriage would interfere with his writing. His extensive correspondence and diaries reveal a relentless self-critic, deeply concerned with morality, spirituality, and the demands of artistic integrity. In his later years, Kafka’s health deteriorated due to tuberculosis, forcing him to withdraw from work and spend long periods in sanatoriums. Despite his illness, he continued writing when possible. He died young, leaving behind a large body of unpublished manuscripts. Before his death, he instructed his close friend Max Brod to destroy all of his remaining work. Brod ignored this request and instead edited and published Kafka’s novels, stories, and diaries, ensuring his posthumous reputation.
The publication of Kafka’s work after his death established him as one of the most influential writers of the twentieth century. The term Kafkaesque entered common usage to describe situations marked by oppressive bureaucracy, absurd logic, and existential anxiety. His writing has been interpreted through existential, religious, psychological, and political perspectives, though Kafka himself resisted definitive meanings. His enduring power lies in his ability to articulate modern anxiety with clarity and restraint.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 452 reviews
March 25, 2017
Read a book originally written in a different language.
Finally writing a review of this thing that I really don't wanna write. Because I'm really being generous with two stars because I really hated reading this thing. Probably why I read it in February and only now posting a review, because I feel like an asshole slamming a piece of world literature that has been read so many times by so many people, is taught in classrooms around the world, and has a lot of things to say. Oh well, I plead the fifth. And by pleading the fifth I really just mean
This collection contains the titular "Metamorphosis" as well as the lesser known works "The Judgement," "In the Penal Colony," "A Country Doctor," and "A Report to an Academy." The titular work in this collection was my personal favorite (if I could possibly have a favorite) and the only reason I decided on two stars instead of one. Because I may not have enjoyed reading this, but at least I can appreciate what is being said here. I think "The Judgement" was just awful and probably the worst of the bunch. I wanted to slit my wrists and gouge my eyes out after reading it. Bleak and boring and soooooo depressing. I cannot understand why someone would want to read about something like that. "In the Penal Colony" was completely disturbing and depressing, but I enjoyed it much more than the other stories, except perhaps "The Metamorphosis." It did have something to say, and its disturbing-ness(if that's even a word) at least was purposeful in viewing the justice system and the ones in charge vs. those who are condemned. I can understand it being taught in classrooms and brings up a lot of great ideas on the meaning and understanding of justice vs. revenge and humanity vs. power and the fine lines that tie all those ideas together. As for "A Country Doctor," I barely remember what happens so it obviously made a huge impression on me, and "A Report to an Academy" was just plain absurd and I did not find the point. Now, without further adieu, I will spend the rest of this review talking about the cockroach story.
Reading Kafka made me--an adult, well-read, college educated, intelligent, and relatively communicable woman--feel like a colossal idiot.
I understand what this short novella is trying to say. Or at least I think I do.
We all know that Gregor wakes up one morning to find himself turned into a gigantic cockroach. Ok, ew. But still, this is really really problematic for Gregor who is the only person in his family who works, takes care of business, and has plans for the future. He works his German arse off in order to pay off his parents' debts. And really, he doesn't get many thanks in return. This story is about how his family responds to Gregor's transformation over the next several months, and it is an extremely depressing and sad story.
I couldn't help but think about another book I read last year, Still Alice which is about a woman in her fifties, a brilliant Harvard psychology professor, who finds herself suddenly stricken with early onset Alzheimer's Disease. And though you may be thinking where the hell I am going with linking this book to Kafka's classic masterpiece, just bear with me. You see, in Still Alice there is a lot of talk about not only the disease and what it does to the mind, but what it does to a person, socially and emotionally. It discusses about how people with illnesses of that sort are marginalized by society, treated as less than human, and somehow tossed aside when their illness starts interfering with the plans of those closest to them. That is where Kafka's story struck a chord in me. And that is what I want to talk about.
Because seriously, it is absurd to think that a hard working young man will just wake up one day to find himself turned into a large bug. But it is not all that unrealistic for a hard working young man to have woken up one day with a condition, (a stroke is what entered my mind at the time) which renders him unable to communicate, work, get out of bed, move around they way he is used to. It may make relating to people difficult, it may change the way he looks physically, make him think he is ugly or useless or disturbed. And THAT, people, is what we are dealing with in The Metamorphosis. Gregor, the main breadwinner and all-around people pleaser of the family, is suddenly no longer himself. And therefore no longer of use to his family.
Although I think Kafka takes his ill treatment by his family a little too far on the dramatic side, I think he has a lot to say about how we treat those who have taken care of us when we find ourselves having to take care of them. Elderly, sick, and disabled people are every day mistreated, ignored, left to live in nursing homes, forgotten, and marginalized. Reading a story that is this absurd and in your face really made that other, less talked about reality hit home in a big way.
Now with that being said, this 50 page story took me MONTHS to read. Because it is BORING. And DRY. And UBER DEPRESSING. And that is why it only gets 2 stars. Because though I appreciate what Kafka is saying, and enjoy the underlying theme of this story, it was not at all enjoyable for me to read. I felt it was a chore, something I HAD to do. And reading should never make me feel like that.
Now I know what you all are thinking. Jess's favorite book of all time is The Stranger which is pretty much the epitome of depressing existentialist bullshit. But that book MOVES me like no book ever has. It doesn't make me feel like I'm having a brain hemorrhage in order to get the point. And that is what makes it so uncomfortable to write a review for a book that I hate, but respect. And I do respect this book and this author. I'm just not sure I will ever read anything of his again. Because seriously, thinking about reading this shit again makes me want to kill myself.
Thanks to my favorite pantsless, non-crunchy pals for buddy reading this. Sorry I found it Crunchy, guys. On the other hand, Tadiana actually read it in its original German and liked it so much better than I did. You can read her beautiful review here because she also has a lot to say and does a much better job than I.
April 26, 2021
“One morning, as Gregor Samsa woke from a fitful, dream-filled sleep, he found that he had changed into an enormous bedbug”
And so begins the sobering and incredibly sad tale “The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka. While the premise on which this short story is based is quite fantastical, the trajectory that follows is somehow a very stark notion of humanity that actually leaves me quite sombre.
Gregor is not the only person in this story to undergo a metamorphosis although his is by far the most complete and sudden. His sister, Grete and his parents equally react to Gregor’s change although their responses are somewhat drawn out and by default a response to what Gregor’s unexpected transformation causes for them. I kind of want to cast Gregor’s family into the role of the villains, but somehow I can’t because I don’t know what I would do if I awoke one morning to find my son changed into a giant bedbug who subsequently could no longer communicate with me and whose transformation meant a complete life change for me. Obviously, having a bedbug for a son would mean a life change.
I think what stands out for me here is that not really ever once did anyone really try to empathise with Gregor. Not only would dealing with the unbelievable trauma of the physiological change, the emotional and mental anguish would be exponential in its impact. And as I type these words I can’t stop thinking that this is and has been reality for millions. Not the waking as a bedbug notion, but the overnight forever change that impacts livelihood in every conceivable way.
Despondent, depressed and dejected after months of no communication, monotony, no voice, agency, decision making capacity, Gregor gives up the will to live. Everything he once was is taken away from him. His family conclude they are better off without him. What choice is there but to breathe his last. I keep going to the parallels here... the metaphor of the metamorphosis deeply penetrates.
And so begins the sobering and incredibly sad tale “The Metamorphosis” by Franz Kafka. While the premise on which this short story is based is quite fantastical, the trajectory that follows is somehow a very stark notion of humanity that actually leaves me quite sombre.
Gregor is not the only person in this story to undergo a metamorphosis although his is by far the most complete and sudden. His sister, Grete and his parents equally react to Gregor’s change although their responses are somewhat drawn out and by default a response to what Gregor’s unexpected transformation causes for them. I kind of want to cast Gregor’s family into the role of the villains, but somehow I can’t because I don’t know what I would do if I awoke one morning to find my son changed into a giant bedbug who subsequently could no longer communicate with me and whose transformation meant a complete life change for me. Obviously, having a bedbug for a son would mean a life change.
I think what stands out for me here is that not really ever once did anyone really try to empathise with Gregor. Not only would dealing with the unbelievable trauma of the physiological change, the emotional and mental anguish would be exponential in its impact. And as I type these words I can’t stop thinking that this is and has been reality for millions. Not the waking as a bedbug notion, but the overnight forever change that impacts livelihood in every conceivable way.
Despondent, depressed and dejected after months of no communication, monotony, no voice, agency, decision making capacity, Gregor gives up the will to live. Everything he once was is taken away from him. His family conclude they are better off without him. What choice is there but to breathe his last. I keep going to the parallels here... the metaphor of the metamorphosis deeply penetrates.
September 29, 2018
The philosopher Adorno wrote of Kafka,
"Each sentence says "Interpret me", and none will permit it."
Kafka's words are unsettling, torturous and crisp with details. They are devoid of metaphors, yet while trying to read between the lines, meanings can be seen lying surreptitiously.
1. Meditation
Meditation is a series of short sketches, with isolation as its recurrent theme. It begins with the happiness of a child and ends with an adult's unhappiness.
2. The Judgement
Georg Bendemann is a successful businessman. He is everything his friend in St Petersburg is not. He is engaged to Frieda Brandenfeld, about whom he chooses not to tell his friend. When his fiancée tells him, however, that "If you have friends like that, Georg, you shouldn't have become engaged at all" , he started having second thoughts about it.
While it was a realistic description in the first half, as soon as Georg enters his father's bedroom, the scene becomes surreal. The conflict between the two is apparent and we are left hanging in mid-air.
3. The Metamorphosis
While there was a separate presence of the real and the surreal in The Judgement, they were superimposed in The Metamorphosis. Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning and finds that he is transformed into a "monstrous vermin" , but his primary concern is not his physical transformation. He is more worried about the disruption in his work routine. Trapped in the capitalist system, there is no way out but death. The motif of a "giant" father continues here. Dependent on Gregor Samsa for their financial needs, the family, finally, seem to be doing well without him.
4. In the Penal Colony
In a reply to his publisher, Kafka said, "To explain this last story I only add that not only it is painful; rather, the time in which all of us live, and myself in particular, is painful."
Set in a French-speaking colony, in In the Penal Colony, an officer acquaints a European visitor with an "apparatus" . The new commandant, although not in favour of torturous machine, however, doesn't stop its usage. There is corruption at every level. The only transparency in the system is in the glass harrows and the only freedom the "condemned man" (not a novel way of taking away someone's identity) seems to have is that of straps, instead of chains. Although there is an allegorical death of old commandant, the hope for an allegorical rebirth succour. The apparatus gets fouled because so is the system - filthy and foul as the murk.
5. Letter to his Father
From Letter to his Father emanates the authoritarian figure of Franz Kafka's father, Hermann Kafka and the rather subdued personality of the former. It was Kafka's attempt to reconcilation, however, because of his mother's discouragement, the letter never materialized for his father.
1. Meditation
Meditation is a series of short sketches, with isolation as its recurrent theme. It begins with the happiness of a child and ends with an adult's unhappiness.
2. The Judgement
Georg Bendemann is a successful businessman. He is everything his friend in St Petersburg is not. He is engaged to Frieda Brandenfeld, about whom he chooses not to tell his friend. When his fiancée tells him, however, that "If you have friends like that, Georg, you shouldn't have become engaged at all" , he started having second thoughts about it.
While it was a realistic description in the first half, as soon as Georg enters his father's bedroom, the scene becomes surreal. The conflict between the two is apparent and we are left hanging in mid-air.
3. The Metamorphosis
While there was a separate presence of the real and the surreal in The Judgement, they were superimposed in The Metamorphosis. Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning and finds that he is transformed into a "monstrous vermin" , but his primary concern is not his physical transformation. He is more worried about the disruption in his work routine. Trapped in the capitalist system, there is no way out but death. The motif of a "giant" father continues here. Dependent on Gregor Samsa for their financial needs, the family, finally, seem to be doing well without him.
4. In the Penal Colony
In a reply to his publisher, Kafka said, "To explain this last story I only add that not only it is painful; rather, the time in which all of us live, and myself in particular, is painful."
Set in a French-speaking colony, in In the Penal Colony, an officer acquaints a European visitor with an "apparatus" . The new commandant, although not in favour of torturous machine, however, doesn't stop its usage. There is corruption at every level. The only transparency in the system is in the glass harrows and the only freedom the "condemned man" (not a novel way of taking away someone's identity) seems to have is that of straps, instead of chains. Although there is an allegorical death of old commandant, the hope for an allegorical rebirth succour. The apparatus gets fouled because so is the system - filthy and foul as the murk.
5. Letter to his Father
From Letter to his Father emanates the authoritarian figure of Franz Kafka's father, Hermann Kafka and the rather subdued personality of the former. It was Kafka's attempt to reconcilation, however, because of his mother's discouragement, the letter never materialized for his father.
September 1, 2020
Some of these I didn't get at all! But the ones I did I liked very much. Metamorphosis of course, Penal Colony, Hunger Artist in particular.
June 7, 2012
I'm giving this four stars partly because some of these stories certainly gave me something to think about. However, I don't know how much I actually enjoyed reading them.
Kafka has been analyzed ad nauseum so I'm going to skip that for the most part and just list the stories in my collection and a few thoughts and then we'll knock off early and drink some German beer, m'kay?
Meditation: I really liked this collection of impressions (apparently a popular narrative form of Kafka's time) written over a period of 8 years early in Kafka's writing career. Mainly because I had no idea Kafka could write so beautifully and wistfully, like this passage from childhood which I wish he'd written more about:
The stories quickly move though from the collective joy of childhood to adult alienation with society in general and women in particular (there are no more "we's" to be found for starters.)
The Judgement: Frankly, I wouldn't have gotten this story at all-a tale about a father/son quarrel that takes an odd turn-without the aide of the commentary in my Oxford Press edition. I'm sure it's brilliant but my reaction amounted to, "Meh." The commentary also natters on about Nietzsche's Will to Power which made me want to stick needles in my eyes.
Metamorphosis: Here's a fun fact--everyone thinks Gregor Samsa turned into a giant cockroach but my translation (by Joyce Crick) uses the phrase "monstrous vermin" instead. The German word ungeziefer is apparently not specific. Kafka did not even want an insect in the cover illustration. This non-specificity drove Vladimir Nabokov, who wrote a critique of this work, bonkers. Nabokov was an entomologist by training you see (who knew?) and he pored over Kafka's text trying to determine if Gregor was a roach or a beetle or something else and finally concluded that Kafka did not provide sufficient taxonomic specificity.
As far as the story goes, my reaction basically echoes one of the other reviewer's when he said, "F--- Gregor Samsa's family." I mean, really. Also, does Gregor literally transform or does he just imagine himself as an increasingly filth-covered and pathetic insect? He's remarkably sanguine about the whole affair.
In the Penal Colony: the most straight-forward narrative of the whole bunch. A dignitary from a foreign country visits a penal colony and encounters a perfectly pleasant army officer with a perfectly barbaric, intricately constructed torture device. Interesting but difficult to read.
Letter to his Father: Kafka writes a letter to his father about why he was such a lousy parent and, uh....ok, in truth I was Kafka'd out by this point and barely skimmed this.
Lots of commentary in my edition along with some good translator's notes.
Kafka has been analyzed ad nauseum so I'm going to skip that for the most part and just list the stories in my collection and a few thoughts and then we'll knock off early and drink some German beer, m'kay?
Meditation: I really liked this collection of impressions (apparently a popular narrative form of Kafka's time) written over a period of 8 years early in Kafka's writing career. Mainly because I had no idea Kafka could write so beautifully and wistfully, like this passage from childhood which I wish he'd written more about:
One of us started to sing a popular song, but we all wanted to sing. We were singing faster than the train was traveling, we swung our arms because our voices were not enough; our voices all tumbled out together, which made us feel good. When your voice joins in with others, it's like being drawn along by a fish-hook.
The stories quickly move though from the collective joy of childhood to adult alienation with society in general and women in particular (there are no more "we's" to be found for starters.)
The Judgement: Frankly, I wouldn't have gotten this story at all-a tale about a father/son quarrel that takes an odd turn-without the aide of the commentary in my Oxford Press edition. I'm sure it's brilliant but my reaction amounted to, "Meh." The commentary also natters on about Nietzsche's Will to Power which made me want to stick needles in my eyes.
Metamorphosis: Here's a fun fact--everyone thinks Gregor Samsa turned into a giant cockroach but my translation (by Joyce Crick) uses the phrase "monstrous vermin" instead. The German word ungeziefer is apparently not specific. Kafka did not even want an insect in the cover illustration. This non-specificity drove Vladimir Nabokov, who wrote a critique of this work, bonkers. Nabokov was an entomologist by training you see (who knew?) and he pored over Kafka's text trying to determine if Gregor was a roach or a beetle or something else and finally concluded that Kafka did not provide sufficient taxonomic specificity.
As far as the story goes, my reaction basically echoes one of the other reviewer's when he said, "F--- Gregor Samsa's family." I mean, really. Also, does Gregor literally transform or does he just imagine himself as an increasingly filth-covered and pathetic insect? He's remarkably sanguine about the whole affair.
In the Penal Colony: the most straight-forward narrative of the whole bunch. A dignitary from a foreign country visits a penal colony and encounters a perfectly pleasant army officer with a perfectly barbaric, intricately constructed torture device. Interesting but difficult to read.
Letter to his Father: Kafka writes a letter to his father about why he was such a lousy parent and, uh....ok, in truth I was Kafka'd out by this point and barely skimmed this.
Lots of commentary in my edition along with some good translator's notes.
January 18, 2020
A collection of Kafka works, including “Meditation,” “The Judgement,” “The Metamorphosis,” “In the Penal Colony,” and “Letter to his Father.”
The most noteworthy and best piece is "The Metamorphosis," obviously. I quite enjoyed it, though I'm always one to enjoy depressing endings. He sets up a nice contrast between the literal and the absurd. "Meditation" is randomness and not worth much. "The Judgement" is interesting, but too quick. "The Penal Colony" is intriguing, but loses meaning in all its gore. "Letter to his Father" is a whiny little boy ranting about how much he hates his dad. It's basically his diary, and the entire time you're wishing he would take a chill pill.
Unsurprisingly, all of the stories have a classic Kafkaesque quality to them: depressing, absurd, frustrating, complex, bizarre. You're always left with "Um, what?" by the end, and a strong hope that Kafka got to see a a therapist at some point.
The collection itself isn't worth owning, unless you're an avid Kafka reader. Look up the stories individually online instead. But I'm still glad I expanded my experience with Kafka.
The most noteworthy and best piece is "The Metamorphosis," obviously. I quite enjoyed it, though I'm always one to enjoy depressing endings. He sets up a nice contrast between the literal and the absurd. "Meditation" is randomness and not worth much. "The Judgement" is interesting, but too quick. "The Penal Colony" is intriguing, but loses meaning in all its gore. "Letter to his Father" is a whiny little boy ranting about how much he hates his dad. It's basically his diary, and the entire time you're wishing he would take a chill pill.
Unsurprisingly, all of the stories have a classic Kafkaesque quality to them: depressing, absurd, frustrating, complex, bizarre. You're always left with "Um, what?" by the end, and a strong hope that Kafka got to see a a therapist at some point.
The collection itself isn't worth owning, unless you're an avid Kafka reader. Look up the stories individually online instead. But I'm still glad I expanded my experience with Kafka.
September 14, 2020
The Metamorphosis and Other Stories by Franz Kafka #SeptemberReads #2020Reads
So far, one of my best reads this year is Franz Kafka’s The Trial. And one of the best kdrama series I’ve seen this year is Strangers From Hell where every episode pushes the protagonist to the peak of his anxiety. The same cannot be done without Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. 🙈 You’ll see why, once you read this book. 😁
To note, most of Kafka’s famous stories describe mundane and absurd aspects of modern bureaucracy. These stories are commonly known as “Kafkaesque” — an unnecessarily complicated and frustrating experience. His characters are very interesting, especially those involving office workers who are compelled to struggle obstacles in order to achieve their goals, and often their ordeal turns out to be so disorienting and illogical that success proves to be pointless. As I learned from a documentary film about Kafka, it is not the absurdity of bureaucracy alone, but the irony of the characters circular reasoning in reaction to it that is emblematic of Kafka’s writing.
For instance, in The Metamorphosis, Samsa wakes up transformed into a bedbug. Surprisingly, Samsa’s main concern was focused not on his strange transformation, but on the fact that he might not be able to go to work. In the story Poseidon, the water god himself is so swamped with paperwork that he doesn’t have time to explore his underwater domain. The joke here is that not even a ‘God’ can handle the amount of paperwork demanded by a modern workplace.
Read Kafka now! 🙈
So far, one of my best reads this year is Franz Kafka’s The Trial. And one of the best kdrama series I’ve seen this year is Strangers From Hell where every episode pushes the protagonist to the peak of his anxiety. The same cannot be done without Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. 🙈 You’ll see why, once you read this book. 😁
To note, most of Kafka’s famous stories describe mundane and absurd aspects of modern bureaucracy. These stories are commonly known as “Kafkaesque” — an unnecessarily complicated and frustrating experience. His characters are very interesting, especially those involving office workers who are compelled to struggle obstacles in order to achieve their goals, and often their ordeal turns out to be so disorienting and illogical that success proves to be pointless. As I learned from a documentary film about Kafka, it is not the absurdity of bureaucracy alone, but the irony of the characters circular reasoning in reaction to it that is emblematic of Kafka’s writing.
For instance, in The Metamorphosis, Samsa wakes up transformed into a bedbug. Surprisingly, Samsa’s main concern was focused not on his strange transformation, but on the fact that he might not be able to go to work. In the story Poseidon, the water god himself is so swamped with paperwork that he doesn’t have time to explore his underwater domain. The joke here is that not even a ‘God’ can handle the amount of paperwork demanded by a modern workplace.
Read Kafka now! 🙈
February 6, 2025
overall very interesting, but i wasn't able to understand a few of the stories the first time around :/
March 29, 2022
okay, so I delayed reading this one because I did not enjoy 'metamorphosis' so much last year but still wanted to give Kafka another try. I still did not enjoy 'metamorphosis' lol but loved reading 'meditation' and 'letter to his father' because it was the closest thing to an autobiography that he wrote and oh my goodness! I am lowkey mad at his mother for not forwarding the letter to his father and returning Franz the letter back but it's frustrating because I understand why she did what she did. reading 'letter to his father' makes sense to all of his other stories in the book. looking forward to reading 'the trial'!!
February 25, 2025
Very interesting. I found each oddity in the stories to be a entry point into the themes Kafka wanted to explore. In the metamorphosis, the creature considers its relation to the family. In the penal colony, the machine gives way to the notions of justice. In the letter to his father, the letter permits an unimpeded and profound self reflection. There surely existed other (more straightforward) ways for an author to tackle the themes, which is why the choices made by Kafka made these stories so unique and engaging.
August 15, 2024
while the metamorphosis, the judgement, in the penal colony, etc. never fail to resonate—the metamorphosis has easily become one of my favourite pieces of literature these past few years, maybe more and more the more absurd existence becomes (and to that, why kafka is increasingly one of my favourite writers), it was letter to my father that really stood out from this collection.
— I would have been happy to have you as a friend, a boss, an uncle, a grandfather, even indeed (though rather more hesitantly) as a father-in-law. It is only as a father that you were too strong for me, particularly since my brothers died young and my sisters did not come along until much later, so I had to endure the initial conflicts all alone, for which I was far too weak.
in part because it was my first time reading it, but largely because it was so stark, honest & utterly heart-breaking. i always admire kafka's ability to paint such poignant pictures of the world and all its pains and perturbations, but after reading his letters to milena and this letter to his father, it's not difficult to see where his perspective comes from, or why his writing is so potent.
— The older I grew, the more I provided you with evidence of my worthlessness, gradually you really came, in certain respects, to be right about me.
letter to my father is so hard-hitting less because it speaks to universal experiences (though i've no doubt it would resonate personally with very many), but because it speaks so deeply to kafka's experiences, that it a) feels almost wrong to read, and b) is so uncompromising in its truths about his father, his family, and most of all himself, that the inherent anguish of self-recognition bleeds through the page. after all, he only had the true feeling of himself when he was unbearably unhappy.
— Your effect on me was the effect you could not help having, but you should stop considering it some particular perversity on my part that I succumbed to that effect.
really good collection overall. i ended up re-reading the metamorphosis last because i'd read it most recently, but reading a story about a man trapped in a dead-end job due to the faults of his father, turned to a monstrous vermin in the company of his family, after reading his letter to his father? the narrative of reality is stronger than the narratives we create i fear.
— I would have been happy to have you as a friend, a boss, an uncle, a grandfather, even indeed (though rather more hesitantly) as a father-in-law. It is only as a father that you were too strong for me, particularly since my brothers died young and my sisters did not come along until much later, so I had to endure the initial conflicts all alone, for which I was far too weak.
in part because it was my first time reading it, but largely because it was so stark, honest & utterly heart-breaking. i always admire kafka's ability to paint such poignant pictures of the world and all its pains and perturbations, but after reading his letters to milena and this letter to his father, it's not difficult to see where his perspective comes from, or why his writing is so potent.
— The older I grew, the more I provided you with evidence of my worthlessness, gradually you really came, in certain respects, to be right about me.
letter to my father is so hard-hitting less because it speaks to universal experiences (though i've no doubt it would resonate personally with very many), but because it speaks so deeply to kafka's experiences, that it a) feels almost wrong to read, and b) is so uncompromising in its truths about his father, his family, and most of all himself, that the inherent anguish of self-recognition bleeds through the page. after all, he only had the true feeling of himself when he was unbearably unhappy.
— Your effect on me was the effect you could not help having, but you should stop considering it some particular perversity on my part that I succumbed to that effect.
really good collection overall. i ended up re-reading the metamorphosis last because i'd read it most recently, but reading a story about a man trapped in a dead-end job due to the faults of his father, turned to a monstrous vermin in the company of his family, after reading his letter to his father? the narrative of reality is stronger than the narratives we create i fear.
June 27, 2017
"The Metamorphosis" (the short story) was great! I'd give it a 4.3/5. It very weird and wonderful and very outside my usual reading zone. Some of the other stories were also really interesting, like "The Penal Colony".
I give this specific edition a 3/5. I don't know if it was the stories or the specific translations, but some of the stories just weren't very interesting and even painful to get through. Overall the book was good, it has a nice cover, and the more popular stories were great. But, I don't think you'd necessarily need to read this edition.
I give this specific edition a 3/5. I don't know if it was the stories or the specific translations, but some of the stories just weren't very interesting and even painful to get through. Overall the book was good, it has a nice cover, and the more popular stories were great. But, I don't think you'd necessarily need to read this edition.
November 5, 2016
** Books 282 - 2016 **
3,4 of 5 stars!
I can't stand how pity i am for Gregor in the end :'(
3,4 of 5 stars!
I can't stand how pity i am for Gregor in the end :'(
January 5, 2022
Þegar Rikki vaknaði morgun einn af órólegum draumum,komst hann að raun um að hann
hafði breyst í skelfilegt súrgrænmeti í bílskúr sínum. Hann lá á bakinu, sem var mjúkt eins
gúmmí, og ef hann lyfti höfði sínu eilítið sá hann hvelfdan, grænan kvið sinn, markaðan
hrukkum; efst á honum hafði bílskúrsborðið vart nokkuð haldið lengur og var hann að því
kominn að renna alla leið niður. Engir fætur hans, ekki til staðar vingsuðust því ekki fyrir
augum hans.
“Hvað hefur komið fyrir mig?” hugsaði hann. Þetta var ekki draumur. Bílskúrinn hans, ágætur
mannabústaður en þó fulllítill, hvíldi í rósemd milli fjögurra kunnuglegra veggja. Fyrir ofan
borðið þar sem dreift hafði verið vísindatólum - Rikki var vísindamaður - var tækjaskenkur
sem hann hafði fyrir skemmstu smíðað og úr snotrum mosagrænum við. Þar gat að líta á
skúffur, sextán talsins sem geymdu ýmis tól sem aðeins gáfaðasti maður veraldar kunni skil
á.
Augnaráð Rikka beindist þvínæst að opinni bílskúrs hurðinni og milt veðrið - heyra mátti
fugla söng streyma inn og gerði hann mjög dapran. “Hvernig væri að ég svæfi aðeins lengur
og gleymdi öllum bjánaskap” hugsaði hann, en það var allsendis ógerlegt, því að hann var
vanur að sofa á hægri hliðinni en í núverandi ástandi gat hann ekki komið sér þannig fyrir.
Hversu kröftuglega sem hann varpaði sér yfir á hægri hlið, þá valt hann ævinlega á magann
aftur. Hann reyndi það sjálfsagt hundrað sinnum, lokaði augunum til að gleyma fótamissinum
og hætti ekki fyrr en hann tók fyrir áður óþekktum, vökva og súrum bruna í síðunni.
“Vúbbalabba dúbdúb” hugsaði hann, “hvílíkt þrælastarf hef ég valið mér! Í ævintýrum dag
eftir dag. Þessu fylgir miklu argsamri útreikningar en í vísindunum sjálfum og þar að auki eru
þessi geimferðalög á mig lögð, áhyggjur af tímaflakki, óreglulegir og vondir drykkir, og
samskipti sem stöðugt breytast, endast aldrei, verða aldrei innileg. Til fjandans með það allt
saman!” Hann fann fyrir smá vægilegum fiðringi ofan á bakinu, mjakaði sér hægt á
maganum nær borðbrúninni til að eiga hægara með að lyfta höfðinu; kom auga á
brunablettinn, en hann var þakinn ljósgrænum smápunktum sem hann kunni engin skil á;
hann hugðist snerta blettinn með einum fætinum en mundi svo skyndilega að hann hafði
enga.
Hann rann aftur niður í sína fyrri stellingu. “Það gerir mann snarruglaðan að fara svona
snemma á fætur” hugsaði hann. “Menn verða að fá sinn svefn. Aðrir Rikkar lifa eins og
kindur í fjárhúsi. Ef ég lít til dæmis aftur inní stórborg Rikkanna að óliðnum morgni til þess að
skrá útreikninga, þá er þessir herramenn nýkomnir í morgunverð. Ég ætti bara að reyna það
hjá dóttur minni; ég myndi þurfa að sitja margfalt fleiri fjölskyldumeðferðar tíma. Ef ég hefði
ekki taumhald á mér vegna Marteins minna, hefði ég hætt þessu fyrir löngu, ég hefði gengið
til Jonna og sagt honum mína hjartans meiningu. Hann hefði sennilega stokkið upp úr
sófanum! Það er reyndar einkennilegt háttalag að sitja í sófanum og tala úr hæðum niður til
gáfnamennis sem auk þess þarf að einfalda allt því að hann er svo heimskur. Jæja ekki er
víst að öll von sé úti; Þegar mér hefur tekist að grafa undan trausti hans í fjölskyldunni - það
gætu verið fimm eða sex vikur í viðbót - þá læt ég hiklaust verða af þessu. Þá verða
straumhvörfin. En nú verð ég að koma mér á fætur því Marteinn fer að vakna.”
Og hann leit á tímavélina, sem tifaði á skápnum. “Sviftí!” hugsaði hann. Tímavélin var biluð
og vísarnir stóðu í stað, hún hafði bilað í nótt og það var korter í meðferðartímann. Af
bílskúrsborðinu mátti sjá að hún hafði brætt úr sér; hún hafði áreiðanlega bilað eitthvern
tímann í nótt. En gat verið að hann hefði sofið hinn rólegasti á meðan hún bræddi úr sér svo
að húsgögnin nötruðu? Að vísu hafði hann ekki sofið rótt, en sennilega þeim mun fastar. En
hvað átti hann til bragðs að taka núna? Meðferðartíminn byrjaði klukkan 11 til að sleppa við
hann þyrfti hann að hraða sér ofboðslega og hann hafði ekki gert útreikningana, og sjálfum
fannst honum hreint ekki að hann væri sérlega hress og kvikur. Og jafnvel þótt hann slyppi
við meðferðartímann yrði ekki komist hjá formælingum Jonna, því Sumar hafði bókað
svipaðan tíma og fyrir löngu greint frá vanrækslu hans. Þetta var dóttir Jonna, skilningssljó
skræfa. Hvernig væri ef hann tilkynnti um veikindi? En það væri sérlega vandræðalegt og
grunsamlegt, því að Rikki hafði aldrei nokkurn tíma veikst á ævilöngum vísindaferli sínum.
Jonni kæmi áreiðanlega með hitamælinn, myndi atyrða Bettu vegna leti pappa síns og vísa á
bug öllum mótbárum með skírskotunum til hitamælisins; að hans áliti eru allir menn allsendis
heilsuhraustir en latir til vinnu. Og hefði hann með öllu á röngu að standa í þessu tilviki?
Rikka leið reyndar prýðilega, þótt hann væri með ólíkindum syfjaður þrátt fyrir allan þennan
svefn, og hann var meira að segja glorsoltinn.
Meðan hann íhugaði allt þetta í mesta flýti án þess að geta tekið ákvörðun um að yfirgefa
rúmið -í sama bili sló klukkan fjórðung fyrir ellefu - var drepið varfærnislega á dyrnar við
höfðalag rúmsins. “Rikki” var kallað - það var Marteinn “hana vantar stundarfjórðung í ellefu.
Ætlaru ekki að fara?” Þessi óörugga rödd” Rikki hrökk við þegar hann heyrði rödd sína
svara. Hún var ótvírætt hans gamla rödd en í hana blandaðist að því er virtist neðanfrá,
eitthvert slepjukennt slímhljóð sem ekki var hægt að bæla niður; það olli því að orðin voru
einungis skýr í fyrstu andrá en síðan spilltist hljómurinn svo mjög að enginn gat verið viss um
að hafa heyrt rétt. Rikki hafði ætlað að svara skilmerkilega og útskýra allt en við þessar
aðstæður lét hann nægja að segja: “Já, Já Marteinn, ég er að fara.” Þetta var viðarhurð og
því sennilega ekki hægt að greina breytinguna á rödd Rikka hinumegin, því að Marteinn lét
sér þessa skýringu nægja og lötraði burt. En þessar stuttu samræður urðu til þess að aðrir í
fjölskyldunni veittu því athugli að Rikki var enn ófarinn, en því höfðu allir búist við, og brátt
bankaði Marteinn aftur á einar hliðardyrnar, laust, en með hnefanum “Rikki, Rikki” kallaði
hann, “hvað er á seyði?” Og að stundarkorni liðnu bætti hann við í efasemdartóni,
mjóraddaðri: “Rikki,Rikki!” við hinar hliðardyrnar sagði Sumar áhyggjufull; ”Rikki? Líður þér
ekki vel? Vantar þig eitthvað?” Rikki svaraði til beggja hliða: “Ég er að verða tilbúinn” og
leitaðist við að afmá alltóvenjulegt úr rödd sinni með vönduðum framburði og með því að
gera langt hlér milli einstakra orða. Marteinn sneri aftur að morgunverðarborðinu en Sumar
hvíslaði: “Rikki, opnaðu, ég grátbið þig” En Rikka kom ekki til hugar að opna, heldur hrósaði
happi yfir þeirri varkárni, sem hann hafði tamið sér á geimferðalögum. að læsa öllum hurðum
einnig heimavið, á næturnar.
Fyrst hugðist hann fara á fætur rólega og ótruflað, klæða sig og umfram allt snæða
morgunverð og íhaga framhaldið að því loknu, því að honum var ljóst að á bílskúrsborðinu
myndu hugleiðingar hans ekileiða til skynsamlegrar niðurstöðu. Hann minntist þess að hafa
stundum áður fundið til lítilsháttar sársauka á maganum, kannski vegna óheppilegs
sýrustigs, en þegar hann sneri sér við sá hann gúrku líkama sinn, og hann var fullur
eftirvæntingar að vita hvernig í gúrkulíki gæti hann aldrei setið meðferðartímann. Hann varekki í minnsta vafa að breytingin á röddinni væri ekkert annað en mjólkursýran, undirstaða
súrgúrkna.
Það var lítill vandi að snúa sér við hann þurfti ekki annað en að rugga sér svolítið og rúllaði
af sjálfu sér á bakið. En eftir sem áður átti hann í erfiðleikum, einkum vegna þess hve
óhemju sívaliningslaga hann var. Hann hefði þurft handleggi og hendur til að rísa upp; í stað
þess hafði hann einungis gúrkuhrukkur sem voru gegnumsósa í ediki og mjólkursýru. Ef
hann reyndi að rúlla sér rann hann óðara til baka; og tækist honum að rúlla sér yfir á magann
festist hann þannig, í áköfu, sársaukafullu uppnámi. “Umfram allt gúrkumenni fara ekki í
meðferðar tíma” sagði Rikki við sjálfan sig.
Fyrst ætlaði hann að koma neðir hluta líkamans fram úr rúminu, en þessi neðri hluti, sem
hann hafði reyndar enn ekki séð og gat ekki gert sér í hugarlund hvernig væri í raun réttri,
reyndist vera illhreyfanlegur; Þetta gekk mjög hægt; og þegar hann að lokum var orðinn því
sem næst hamslaus og útti sér af öllu afli fram á við, hvað sem það kostaði, þá hafði hann
tekið ranga stefnu og hann rakst óþyrmilega í tækjaskenkinn; hann fann til brennandi
sársauka sem færði honum heim sanninn um að einmitt neðri hluti líkamans væri einnig
súrgúrka.
Þessvegna freistaði hann þess að koma fyrst efri hluta líkamans fram úr rúminu og sneri
höfðinu varlega að borðbrúninni. Þetta tókst auðveldlega og að lokum fylgdi líkamsflykkið,
þótt digurt væri og slímugt, hreyfingu höfuðsins hægt og sígandi. En þegar hann hélt lokst
höfiðnu í lausu lofti úti fyrir borðbrúninni, brast hann kjark til að hnika sér þannig áfram; ef
hann gripi til þess ráðs að láta sig falla á þennan hátt, gengi það kraftverki næst ef hann
skaðaðist ekki á höfði. Og einmitt núna mátti ekki fyrir nokkurn mun missa meðvitund; frekar
skyldi hann vera kyrr á borðinu.
En þegar hann lá þarna enn sem fyrr andavarðandi eftir endurtekna fyrirhöfnina og sá aftur
þessar gúrkuhrukkur svitna súrgúrkusafa kunni hann engin ráð önnur en að koma ró og
reglu á þessa óreiðu, sagði hann enn einu sinni við sjálfan sig að hann gæti alls ekki verið
lengur á borðinu og að skynsamlegast væri að kosta öllu til í veikri von um að losna þar með
af borðinu. Hann gleymdi samt samt áður ekki að minna sjálfan sig jafnframt á að róleg og
ærðulaus íhugun væri miklu betri en örvæntingarfullar ákvarðanir. Á slíkum augnablikum
hvessti hann augun sem mest hann mátti á bílskúrshurðina, en því miður var hvorki huggun
né gleði að finna í morgunsólinni sem blasti við og skein meira að segja á hina hlið götunnar:
“Klukkan er orðin Ellefu ” sagði hann við sjálfan sig þegar vekjaraklukkan sló á ný, “klukkan
er orðin ellefu og enn er svona bjart.” Og stundarkorn lá hann kyrr og dró andann dræmt,
eins og hann byggist kannski við að gúrku líkami hans afsakaði hann frá meðferðartímanum.
En þá sagði hann við sjálfan sig. “Ég verð ábyggilega bara súrgúrka það sem eftir er það
þykir mér nokkuð fyndið”
hafði breyst í skelfilegt súrgrænmeti í bílskúr sínum. Hann lá á bakinu, sem var mjúkt eins
gúmmí, og ef hann lyfti höfði sínu eilítið sá hann hvelfdan, grænan kvið sinn, markaðan
hrukkum; efst á honum hafði bílskúrsborðið vart nokkuð haldið lengur og var hann að því
kominn að renna alla leið niður. Engir fætur hans, ekki til staðar vingsuðust því ekki fyrir
augum hans.
“Hvað hefur komið fyrir mig?” hugsaði hann. Þetta var ekki draumur. Bílskúrinn hans, ágætur
mannabústaður en þó fulllítill, hvíldi í rósemd milli fjögurra kunnuglegra veggja. Fyrir ofan
borðið þar sem dreift hafði verið vísindatólum - Rikki var vísindamaður - var tækjaskenkur
sem hann hafði fyrir skemmstu smíðað og úr snotrum mosagrænum við. Þar gat að líta á
skúffur, sextán talsins sem geymdu ýmis tól sem aðeins gáfaðasti maður veraldar kunni skil
á.
Augnaráð Rikka beindist þvínæst að opinni bílskúrs hurðinni og milt veðrið - heyra mátti
fugla söng streyma inn og gerði hann mjög dapran. “Hvernig væri að ég svæfi aðeins lengur
og gleymdi öllum bjánaskap” hugsaði hann, en það var allsendis ógerlegt, því að hann var
vanur að sofa á hægri hliðinni en í núverandi ástandi gat hann ekki komið sér þannig fyrir.
Hversu kröftuglega sem hann varpaði sér yfir á hægri hlið, þá valt hann ævinlega á magann
aftur. Hann reyndi það sjálfsagt hundrað sinnum, lokaði augunum til að gleyma fótamissinum
og hætti ekki fyrr en hann tók fyrir áður óþekktum, vökva og súrum bruna í síðunni.
“Vúbbalabba dúbdúb” hugsaði hann, “hvílíkt þrælastarf hef ég valið mér! Í ævintýrum dag
eftir dag. Þessu fylgir miklu argsamri útreikningar en í vísindunum sjálfum og þar að auki eru
þessi geimferðalög á mig lögð, áhyggjur af tímaflakki, óreglulegir og vondir drykkir, og
samskipti sem stöðugt breytast, endast aldrei, verða aldrei innileg. Til fjandans með það allt
saman!” Hann fann fyrir smá vægilegum fiðringi ofan á bakinu, mjakaði sér hægt á
maganum nær borðbrúninni til að eiga hægara með að lyfta höfðinu; kom auga á
brunablettinn, en hann var þakinn ljósgrænum smápunktum sem hann kunni engin skil á;
hann hugðist snerta blettinn með einum fætinum en mundi svo skyndilega að hann hafði
enga.
Hann rann aftur niður í sína fyrri stellingu. “Það gerir mann snarruglaðan að fara svona
snemma á fætur” hugsaði hann. “Menn verða að fá sinn svefn. Aðrir Rikkar lifa eins og
kindur í fjárhúsi. Ef ég lít til dæmis aftur inní stórborg Rikkanna að óliðnum morgni til þess að
skrá útreikninga, þá er þessir herramenn nýkomnir í morgunverð. Ég ætti bara að reyna það
hjá dóttur minni; ég myndi þurfa að sitja margfalt fleiri fjölskyldumeðferðar tíma. Ef ég hefði
ekki taumhald á mér vegna Marteins minna, hefði ég hætt þessu fyrir löngu, ég hefði gengið
til Jonna og sagt honum mína hjartans meiningu. Hann hefði sennilega stokkið upp úr
sófanum! Það er reyndar einkennilegt háttalag að sitja í sófanum og tala úr hæðum niður til
gáfnamennis sem auk þess þarf að einfalda allt því að hann er svo heimskur. Jæja ekki er
víst að öll von sé úti; Þegar mér hefur tekist að grafa undan trausti hans í fjölskyldunni - það
gætu verið fimm eða sex vikur í viðbót - þá læt ég hiklaust verða af þessu. Þá verða
straumhvörfin. En nú verð ég að koma mér á fætur því Marteinn fer að vakna.”
Og hann leit á tímavélina, sem tifaði á skápnum. “Sviftí!” hugsaði hann. Tímavélin var biluð
og vísarnir stóðu í stað, hún hafði bilað í nótt og það var korter í meðferðartímann. Af
bílskúrsborðinu mátti sjá að hún hafði brætt úr sér; hún hafði áreiðanlega bilað eitthvern
tímann í nótt. En gat verið að hann hefði sofið hinn rólegasti á meðan hún bræddi úr sér svo
að húsgögnin nötruðu? Að vísu hafði hann ekki sofið rótt, en sennilega þeim mun fastar. En
hvað átti hann til bragðs að taka núna? Meðferðartíminn byrjaði klukkan 11 til að sleppa við
hann þyrfti hann að hraða sér ofboðslega og hann hafði ekki gert útreikningana, og sjálfum
fannst honum hreint ekki að hann væri sérlega hress og kvikur. Og jafnvel þótt hann slyppi
við meðferðartímann yrði ekki komist hjá formælingum Jonna, því Sumar hafði bókað
svipaðan tíma og fyrir löngu greint frá vanrækslu hans. Þetta var dóttir Jonna, skilningssljó
skræfa. Hvernig væri ef hann tilkynnti um veikindi? En það væri sérlega vandræðalegt og
grunsamlegt, því að Rikki hafði aldrei nokkurn tíma veikst á ævilöngum vísindaferli sínum.
Jonni kæmi áreiðanlega með hitamælinn, myndi atyrða Bettu vegna leti pappa síns og vísa á
bug öllum mótbárum með skírskotunum til hitamælisins; að hans áliti eru allir menn allsendis
heilsuhraustir en latir til vinnu. Og hefði hann með öllu á röngu að standa í þessu tilviki?
Rikka leið reyndar prýðilega, þótt hann væri með ólíkindum syfjaður þrátt fyrir allan þennan
svefn, og hann var meira að segja glorsoltinn.
Meðan hann íhugaði allt þetta í mesta flýti án þess að geta tekið ákvörðun um að yfirgefa
rúmið -í sama bili sló klukkan fjórðung fyrir ellefu - var drepið varfærnislega á dyrnar við
höfðalag rúmsins. “Rikki” var kallað - það var Marteinn “hana vantar stundarfjórðung í ellefu.
Ætlaru ekki að fara?” Þessi óörugga rödd” Rikki hrökk við þegar hann heyrði rödd sína
svara. Hún var ótvírætt hans gamla rödd en í hana blandaðist að því er virtist neðanfrá,
eitthvert slepjukennt slímhljóð sem ekki var hægt að bæla niður; það olli því að orðin voru
einungis skýr í fyrstu andrá en síðan spilltist hljómurinn svo mjög að enginn gat verið viss um
að hafa heyrt rétt. Rikki hafði ætlað að svara skilmerkilega og útskýra allt en við þessar
aðstæður lét hann nægja að segja: “Já, Já Marteinn, ég er að fara.” Þetta var viðarhurð og
því sennilega ekki hægt að greina breytinguna á rödd Rikka hinumegin, því að Marteinn lét
sér þessa skýringu nægja og lötraði burt. En þessar stuttu samræður urðu til þess að aðrir í
fjölskyldunni veittu því athugli að Rikki var enn ófarinn, en því höfðu allir búist við, og brátt
bankaði Marteinn aftur á einar hliðardyrnar, laust, en með hnefanum “Rikki, Rikki” kallaði
hann, “hvað er á seyði?” Og að stundarkorni liðnu bætti hann við í efasemdartóni,
mjóraddaðri: “Rikki,Rikki!” við hinar hliðardyrnar sagði Sumar áhyggjufull; ”Rikki? Líður þér
ekki vel? Vantar þig eitthvað?” Rikki svaraði til beggja hliða: “Ég er að verða tilbúinn” og
leitaðist við að afmá alltóvenjulegt úr rödd sinni með vönduðum framburði og með því að
gera langt hlér milli einstakra orða. Marteinn sneri aftur að morgunverðarborðinu en Sumar
hvíslaði: “Rikki, opnaðu, ég grátbið þig” En Rikka kom ekki til hugar að opna, heldur hrósaði
happi yfir þeirri varkárni, sem hann hafði tamið sér á geimferðalögum. að læsa öllum hurðum
einnig heimavið, á næturnar.
Fyrst hugðist hann fara á fætur rólega og ótruflað, klæða sig og umfram allt snæða
morgunverð og íhaga framhaldið að því loknu, því að honum var ljóst að á bílskúrsborðinu
myndu hugleiðingar hans ekileiða til skynsamlegrar niðurstöðu. Hann minntist þess að hafa
stundum áður fundið til lítilsháttar sársauka á maganum, kannski vegna óheppilegs
sýrustigs, en þegar hann sneri sér við sá hann gúrku líkama sinn, og hann var fullur
eftirvæntingar að vita hvernig í gúrkulíki gæti hann aldrei setið meðferðartímann. Hann varekki í minnsta vafa að breytingin á röddinni væri ekkert annað en mjólkursýran, undirstaða
súrgúrkna.
Það var lítill vandi að snúa sér við hann þurfti ekki annað en að rugga sér svolítið og rúllaði
af sjálfu sér á bakið. En eftir sem áður átti hann í erfiðleikum, einkum vegna þess hve
óhemju sívaliningslaga hann var. Hann hefði þurft handleggi og hendur til að rísa upp; í stað
þess hafði hann einungis gúrkuhrukkur sem voru gegnumsósa í ediki og mjólkursýru. Ef
hann reyndi að rúlla sér rann hann óðara til baka; og tækist honum að rúlla sér yfir á magann
festist hann þannig, í áköfu, sársaukafullu uppnámi. “Umfram allt gúrkumenni fara ekki í
meðferðar tíma” sagði Rikki við sjálfan sig.
Fyrst ætlaði hann að koma neðir hluta líkamans fram úr rúminu, en þessi neðri hluti, sem
hann hafði reyndar enn ekki séð og gat ekki gert sér í hugarlund hvernig væri í raun réttri,
reyndist vera illhreyfanlegur; Þetta gekk mjög hægt; og þegar hann að lokum var orðinn því
sem næst hamslaus og útti sér af öllu afli fram á við, hvað sem það kostaði, þá hafði hann
tekið ranga stefnu og hann rakst óþyrmilega í tækjaskenkinn; hann fann til brennandi
sársauka sem færði honum heim sanninn um að einmitt neðri hluti líkamans væri einnig
súrgúrka.
Þessvegna freistaði hann þess að koma fyrst efri hluta líkamans fram úr rúminu og sneri
höfðinu varlega að borðbrúninni. Þetta tókst auðveldlega og að lokum fylgdi líkamsflykkið,
þótt digurt væri og slímugt, hreyfingu höfuðsins hægt og sígandi. En þegar hann hélt lokst
höfiðnu í lausu lofti úti fyrir borðbrúninni, brast hann kjark til að hnika sér þannig áfram; ef
hann gripi til þess ráðs að láta sig falla á þennan hátt, gengi það kraftverki næst ef hann
skaðaðist ekki á höfði. Og einmitt núna mátti ekki fyrir nokkurn mun missa meðvitund; frekar
skyldi hann vera kyrr á borðinu.
En þegar hann lá þarna enn sem fyrr andavarðandi eftir endurtekna fyrirhöfnina og sá aftur
þessar gúrkuhrukkur svitna súrgúrkusafa kunni hann engin ráð önnur en að koma ró og
reglu á þessa óreiðu, sagði hann enn einu sinni við sjálfan sig að hann gæti alls ekki verið
lengur á borðinu og að skynsamlegast væri að kosta öllu til í veikri von um að losna þar með
af borðinu. Hann gleymdi samt samt áður ekki að minna sjálfan sig jafnframt á að róleg og
ærðulaus íhugun væri miklu betri en örvæntingarfullar ákvarðanir. Á slíkum augnablikum
hvessti hann augun sem mest hann mátti á bílskúrshurðina, en því miður var hvorki huggun
né gleði að finna í morgunsólinni sem blasti við og skein meira að segja á hina hlið götunnar:
“Klukkan er orðin Ellefu ” sagði hann við sjálfan sig þegar vekjaraklukkan sló á ný, “klukkan
er orðin ellefu og enn er svona bjart.” Og stundarkorn lá hann kyrr og dró andann dræmt,
eins og hann byggist kannski við að gúrku líkami hans afsakaði hann frá meðferðartímanum.
En þá sagði hann við sjálfan sig. “Ég verð ábyggilega bara súrgúrka það sem eftir er það
þykir mér nokkuð fyndið”
December 30, 2025
Sometimes, I literally had NO idea what was happening. But then he’ll hit me with a one-liner like:
“I slipped away unnoticed. Although as I hadn't chosen to be free, I had no alternative.”
“If only the little things were as much use to her as the bigger ones.
Our life is filled with worries, every new day brings unpleasant surprises, fears, hopes and horrors that the individual would be unable to bear if he or she didn't have the round-the-clock support of their comrades. Even so, it is often extremely difficult; sometimes thousands of shoulders tremble under the weight of a burden that is only meant to be borne by one of us.”
“It goes without saying that she doesn't save us or give us strength; it is all too easy to play the role of the people's saviour, a people who are accustomed to suffering, who don't pamper themselves, take instant decisions, are familiar with death, give the impression of being timid, but whose daily life is actually a state of permanent daredevilry, as well as being fertile and audacious into the bargain - so I can tell you that it is easy to play the part of the saviour of a people who have always found a way to save themselves, albeit at the cost of sacrifices that leave historians petrified with terror - although historical research is something that we generally ignore.”
“O unity! Shoulder to shoulder the people danced in a circle, blood no longer held prisoner in the narrow confines of the body but free to flow sweetly across the length and breadth of China.”
“Human nature, which is essentially as flighty as dust floating on the breeze, will tolerate no constraint; it shackles itself but soon begins to shake and rattle its chains so violently that it tears the wall, chains and itself apart.”
“…all human thoughts and desires revolved in one direction, while all human aims and achievements revolved in the other…”
“…the lower down the educational establishment one goes, the fewer doubts people have about their own knowledge…”
There was certainly something wrong with this man, but it seems we share the same insanity because I actually feel him. 😤🙌
“I slipped away unnoticed. Although as I hadn't chosen to be free, I had no alternative.”
“If only the little things were as much use to her as the bigger ones.
Our life is filled with worries, every new day brings unpleasant surprises, fears, hopes and horrors that the individual would be unable to bear if he or she didn't have the round-the-clock support of their comrades. Even so, it is often extremely difficult; sometimes thousands of shoulders tremble under the weight of a burden that is only meant to be borne by one of us.”
“It goes without saying that she doesn't save us or give us strength; it is all too easy to play the role of the people's saviour, a people who are accustomed to suffering, who don't pamper themselves, take instant decisions, are familiar with death, give the impression of being timid, but whose daily life is actually a state of permanent daredevilry, as well as being fertile and audacious into the bargain - so I can tell you that it is easy to play the part of the saviour of a people who have always found a way to save themselves, albeit at the cost of sacrifices that leave historians petrified with terror - although historical research is something that we generally ignore.”
“O unity! Shoulder to shoulder the people danced in a circle, blood no longer held prisoner in the narrow confines of the body but free to flow sweetly across the length and breadth of China.”
“Human nature, which is essentially as flighty as dust floating on the breeze, will tolerate no constraint; it shackles itself but soon begins to shake and rattle its chains so violently that it tears the wall, chains and itself apart.”
“…all human thoughts and desires revolved in one direction, while all human aims and achievements revolved in the other…”
“…the lower down the educational establishment one goes, the fewer doubts people have about their own knowledge…”
There was certainly something wrong with this man, but it seems we share the same insanity because I actually feel him. 😤🙌
December 11, 2025
Quite a great couple of works in this. Kafka's description of loneliness and isolation is comparable only to Dostoyevsky; he has such a clear way of putting his pain into words. Out of the things read, my personal standouts were "Meditations" and "Letter to His Father", maybe it's because they're more grounded compared to "The Metamorphosis" and felt much more compelling to me.
Read
March 13, 2018Despite what it says here, my Dover Thrift edition included "Judgement," "The Metamorphosis," "In the Penal Colony," "A Country Doctor" and "A Report to An Academy."
I'm afraid my first foray into Kafka after many years left me unimpressed. Whoops! Don't hate me! "The Metamorphosis" is of course a masterpiece, right up there with Eraserhead or something in demonstrating the humiliation that comes with being a manchild who lives with your parents, incapable apparently of maturing or being a responsible adult, emasculated and humiliated by being taken care of by the family it was your responsibility to take care of, only you're incapable of taking care of anyone because you're a bug. Or maybe I'm projecting. But, I mean, if you already know the premise, the story doesn't really go anywhere surprising.
Some of the other stories here can only muster the reaction "well THAT was weird" from me, and seem like the sketches of very personal relationship problems and dreams from a diary, the kind of stuff that feels voyeuristic and embarrassing to read as an outsider. "In the Penal Colony" was like a Monty Python sketch. "A Country Doctor" seemed like some weird parody of Chekhov's doctor tales. I am not going to do the math with dates to see if this is possible. "A Report to An Academy" was like one of those quirky McSweeney satires no one actually really likes. I hope to like Kafka some day, I think he would be a fun neurotic friend.
I'm afraid my first foray into Kafka after many years left me unimpressed. Whoops! Don't hate me! "The Metamorphosis" is of course a masterpiece, right up there with Eraserhead or something in demonstrating the humiliation that comes with being a manchild who lives with your parents, incapable apparently of maturing or being a responsible adult, emasculated and humiliated by being taken care of by the family it was your responsibility to take care of, only you're incapable of taking care of anyone because you're a bug. Or maybe I'm projecting. But, I mean, if you already know the premise, the story doesn't really go anywhere surprising.
Some of the other stories here can only muster the reaction "well THAT was weird" from me, and seem like the sketches of very personal relationship problems and dreams from a diary, the kind of stuff that feels voyeuristic and embarrassing to read as an outsider. "In the Penal Colony" was like a Monty Python sketch. "A Country Doctor" seemed like some weird parody of Chekhov's doctor tales. I am not going to do the math with dates to see if this is possible. "A Report to An Academy" was like one of those quirky McSweeney satires no one actually really likes. I hope to like Kafka some day, I think he would be a fun neurotic friend.
March 17, 2018
kafka is pretty great
October 23, 2019
Lá que o senhor Kafka tem uma magnifica imaginação la isso tem!
July 30, 2022
The Metamorphosis: I've been meaning to read this short story for years. For some reason I believed I read it in primary school, but now I'm not sure if that's the case. Would you really read this to a bunch of 7 year olds? Nevertheless, I've held a fondness for this story like I've known it for years. So this may be a reread decades later, or it may be my first read.
What I didn't realise was how sad it would be. It's one of those things that could either be comical, or sad. And this one was sad.
*spoilers* The biggest commentary I got from this story was the reliance on health. How intrinsically our wealth is tied to our health. This family had been making ends meet by relying on the only healthy and productive member of the family, but then suddenly he's incapacitated and they start to struggle and suffer.
We also get the commentary on Gregor's life as a commercial traveller/salesman. As someone who worked in tourism the fifth paragraph resonated with me,
"what a strenuous career it is that I’ve chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there’s the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. It can all go to Hell!"
It was also interesting what he was saying to the company secretary. Pleading with the secretary to give him a chance, have some understanding and cut him some slack.
The stress is real in this book. We get the vivid descriptions of his now grotesque body, his difficulty and struggle to move, the uncomfortable-ness of the sensations of his now hairy and sticky body, the stinging and pain and attacks he recieves. His battle to be understood, while he attempts to do the basics such as simply move, eat, and try to get some entertainment.
The rejection he receives from his family, who refuse to look at him, talk to him, and eventually care for him. How he was just cast aside and essentially left to rot. How the little care he recieved slowly disintegrates into outright malice towards him. How he still retained his love and care for his family despite his now mistreatment. It was all a very real and stressful description of struggle.
And that ending! The cleaner was the only character who brought some respite, finally someone who cared, showed him some respect, recognised his intelligence and treated him with compassion. And how the family treated her! The ungrateful, impatient, selfish family. Casting her off before she explained what was obviously going to be an exciting explanation. And it just gets cut off, she's cast away and then the family goes for a jolly old walk and realises they're fine. We didn't even get any remorse for their actions...
How did he go away? For that matter, how did it even happen to him. I was expecting him to revert back to a human and they would find him like that in his room, but the ending was very abrupt and leaves us with a lot of questions. Questions, and sadness. Poor Gregor!
What I didn't realise was how sad it would be. It's one of those things that could either be comical, or sad. And this one was sad.
*spoilers* The biggest commentary I got from this story was the reliance on health. How intrinsically our wealth is tied to our health. This family had been making ends meet by relying on the only healthy and productive member of the family, but then suddenly he's incapacitated and they start to struggle and suffer.
We also get the commentary on Gregor's life as a commercial traveller/salesman. As someone who worked in tourism the fifth paragraph resonated with me,
"what a strenuous career it is that I’ve chosen! Travelling day in and day out. Doing business like this takes much more effort than doing your own business at home, and on top of that there’s the curse of travelling, worries about making train connections, bad and irregular food, contact with different people all the time so that you can never get to know anyone or become friendly with them. It can all go to Hell!"
It was also interesting what he was saying to the company secretary. Pleading with the secretary to give him a chance, have some understanding and cut him some slack.
The stress is real in this book. We get the vivid descriptions of his now grotesque body, his difficulty and struggle to move, the uncomfortable-ness of the sensations of his now hairy and sticky body, the stinging and pain and attacks he recieves. His battle to be understood, while he attempts to do the basics such as simply move, eat, and try to get some entertainment.
The rejection he receives from his family, who refuse to look at him, talk to him, and eventually care for him. How he was just cast aside and essentially left to rot. How the little care he recieved slowly disintegrates into outright malice towards him. How he still retained his love and care for his family despite his now mistreatment. It was all a very real and stressful description of struggle.
And that ending! The cleaner was the only character who brought some respite, finally someone who cared, showed him some respect, recognised his intelligence and treated him with compassion. And how the family treated her! The ungrateful, impatient, selfish family. Casting her off before she explained what was obviously going to be an exciting explanation. And it just gets cut off, she's cast away and then the family goes for a jolly old walk and realises they're fine. We didn't even get any remorse for their actions...
How did he go away? For that matter, how did it even happen to him. I was expecting him to revert back to a human and they would find him like that in his room, but the ending was very abrupt and leaves us with a lot of questions. Questions, and sadness. Poor Gregor!
August 14, 2022
I was first exposed to Franz Kafka 10 years ago in a German Literature class that I took. The required reading was The Metamorphosis. I was never the same after that story which I've probably read ten times in English, Spanish, and even the original German. What a trip. Then there was "The Hunger Artist"(not included in this book)... What really blew my mind about these stories, where how deeply I related to them. I mean, I know I'm not a normal person, but these stories hit really close to home for me.
These stories were translated by Stanley Appelbaum. The translation wasn't as good as the work of Willa and Edwin Muir, so I'd probably not even recommend this particular book for someone unfamiliar with Kafka. Look for the Muir translations first. Shouldn't be too hard to find. The convenient thing about a lot of Kafka's work is that it's in the Public Domain.
These stories were translated by Stanley Appelbaum. The translation wasn't as good as the work of Willa and Edwin Muir, so I'd probably not even recommend this particular book for someone unfamiliar with Kafka. Look for the Muir translations first. Shouldn't be too hard to find. The convenient thing about a lot of Kafka's work is that it's in the Public Domain.
June 29, 2024
Unfortunately, this is life... A sister burdened by the responsibilities she took on (but can't abandon, after all, it's her brother), a father who suddenly was weak, barely walking old man into a vigorous elderly gentleman, a mother who is ill and heartbroken. The only person unaffected is the servant, who remains the only one not starving or wasting away... That's how it goes. While he was working and providing, he was needed, but as soon as he "fell ill," he became unnecessary to anyone... the harsh reality.
This is my recommendation. Don't forget, Kafka is a puzzle. You shouldn't expect straightforwardness and clarity; his works latch onto the subconscious and draw out your hidden fears, thoughts, and experiences. You might never understand anything at all, or you might find yourself in the same mood as the writer and get a lot of enjoyment…..
May 16, 2022
Nobody ever told me Kafka was funny?...
This was (sort of) a joy to read, and Kafka might be my new celebrity crush (alongside Dostoevsky). My favorites were "The Metamorphosis" (revolutionary, I know) and "In the Penal Colony." I found "A Country Doctor" and "A Report to the Academy" incomprehensible and dull, respectively. But whatever. Gotta admit, ending the collection with those two stories took the wind out of my sails; I lost the specificity with which I wanted to write about the good stories. And I won't bother with "The Judgment," which I am mostly indifferent towards.
K, peace out.
This was (sort of) a joy to read, and Kafka might be my new celebrity crush (alongside Dostoevsky). My favorites were "The Metamorphosis" (revolutionary, I know) and "In the Penal Colony." I found "A Country Doctor" and "A Report to the Academy" incomprehensible and dull, respectively. But whatever. Gotta admit, ending the collection with those two stories took the wind out of my sails; I lost the specificity with which I wanted to write about the good stories. And I won't bother with "The Judgment," which I am mostly indifferent towards.
K, peace out.
August 20, 2025
Few people can put the "Kafka" in "Kafkaesque" like Franz Kafka. I pick this up every few years when I think I've understood too much of what I'm reading. This book is broken down into short stories, like "The Metamorphosis" "The Penal Colony" and "The Country Doctor", and also includes several even shorter works that are almost like the writer trying to get down the fleeting thoughts of last night's dreams.
I appreciate that in the forward by the translator, he discuses some of the difficulties of translating from German. English doesn't lend itself as well to German's dependent clause tucked inside a dependent clause stuffed inside another dependent clause, only for the originating verb finally to be completed at the end of the sentence, so changes in structure and tense were sometimes required. I also liked how he said that while many translations of a text can exist, very few are good.
Lastly, Gregor Samsa was not a cockroach. He was a monstrous vermin. And that's a hill I'll die on.
I appreciate that in the forward by the translator, he discuses some of the difficulties of translating from German. English doesn't lend itself as well to German's dependent clause tucked inside a dependent clause stuffed inside another dependent clause, only for the originating verb finally to be completed at the end of the sentence, so changes in structure and tense were sometimes required. I also liked how he said that while many translations of a text can exist, very few are good.
Lastly, Gregor Samsa was not a cockroach. He was a monstrous vermin. And that's a hill I'll die on.
December 6, 2025
3,5 ⭐️
“What was this about?” is the question I asked myself after almost all the stories I read. Still, I really enjoyed the way Kafka writes: very fever-dream-like, with lots of room for interpretation, absurd situations and internal struggles, plus a little existentialism and some fine humor, sprinkled just in the right places.
I really liked The Metamorphosis(of course), Exposing a Confidence Trickster, The Sentence, The Penal Colony (cold-blooded, kinda gave me shivers, but very well written), A Report for an Academy (what a unique and interesting plot… wow), and The Hunger Artist (again, how did he come up with such ideas? amazing).
Here are some passages that I underlined:
“What was this about?” is the question I asked myself after almost all the stories I read. Still, I really enjoyed the way Kafka writes: very fever-dream-like, with lots of room for interpretation, absurd situations and internal struggles, plus a little existentialism and some fine humor, sprinkled just in the right places.
I really liked The Metamorphosis(of course), Exposing a Confidence Trickster, The Sentence, The Penal Colony (cold-blooded, kinda gave me shivers, but very well written), A Report for an Academy (what a unique and interesting plot… wow), and The Hunger Artist (again, how did he come up with such ideas? amazing).
Here are some passages that I underlined:
For a moment I stood with my mouth open, so some of my agitation could escape.
You can dislocate your jaw and wave your arms about till your hands come unscrewed from your wrists, but it won't make any difference: they still don't understand you and never will.
Some people say that the word "Odradek" has Slavic roots, and try to establish how it was formed on that basis. Others think it comes from the German and only has Slavic influences. The hypothetical nature of both these theories leads one to conclude that neither is correct and that neither of them will help us find the meaning of the word.
But it's the kind of laugh that could only come from something that doesn't have lungs; it sounds like the rustle of autumn leaves.
Will it die? Everything that dies always has some form of raison d'être, an occupation with which it can get physically involved.
Scratch the skin between your toes and you still won't find the reason. Press your back against the bars until they almost cut you in two, and you still won't find the reason.
June 30, 2024
These stories are quite difficult to read, especially ‘Letter to his Father’ which is almost unbearably sad. Each story forces the reader to sit with their discomfort at Kafka’s words, and their meaning is never fully clear. I think this was a bit of classic literature that I had been missing out on so I’m glad I read it but I also don’t particularly want to revisit it anytime soon.
July 2, 2025
See raamat jõudis minu kätte, kuna kuu lõpus on mul reis Prahasse ja plaanin külastada Kafka muuseumit.
Nüüd saan aru, miks mõni pisaraid pühib, kui “The metamorphosis” lugu loeb. See on tõsiselt kurb lugu, see pole lihtsalt lugu mehes, kes putukaks muutus.
Mõnus raamat. Olid ka autori teised lood seal, mida oli huvitav lugeda.
Nüüd saan aru, miks mõni pisaraid pühib, kui “The metamorphosis” lugu loeb. See on tõsiselt kurb lugu, see pole lihtsalt lugu mehes, kes putukaks muutus.
Mõnus raamat. Olid ka autori teised lood seal, mida oli huvitav lugeda.
November 10, 2025
Honestly, I bought this to read metamorphosis but ended up reading quite a few pieces of Kafka’s writing. In the penal colony and letters to his father dragged on a bit and were not what I intended to read but may be to some people’s liking. But metamorphosis was fantastic, the imagery and symbolism really hit home. A must read classic.
March 31, 2023
me when i wake up one morning to find i’m a giant insect that everyone hates and my dad throws an apple at me so hard it almost kills me
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